


Golden Grief

by Shaleschnueffler



Series: Dreamscape [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anger, Angst, Anxiety, Archangel Gabriel (Supernatural), Beautiful, Conflict, Conversations, Denial, Denial of Feelings, Depression, Don't Examine This Too Closely, Dreams, Dreams and Nightmares, Dreamsharing, Emotional Hurt, Fear, Feelings, Feelings Realization, Fights, First Kiss, Fluff, Gabriel Lives, Gabriel is being Gabriel, Gabriel is not dead, Grief/Mourning, Guilt, Hate to Love, Hatred, Headcanon, Hurt Sam Winchester, I Will Go Down With This Ship, I'm finally done, Kissing, Loss, Love, Love Confessions, M/M, Memories, POV Sam Winchester, Pain, Prequel, Realization, Sadness, Salty, Sam Winchester Needs a Hug, Sarcasm, Self-Acceptance, Self-Hatred, Series, Struggling Sam Winchester, Tension, Timeline What Timeline, Trickster Gabriel (Supernatural), Two Shot, ffs, kind of, what is this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-23
Updated: 2019-04-01
Packaged: 2019-11-28 12:07:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18208109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shaleschnueffler/pseuds/Shaleschnueffler
Summary: He's mourning. Doesn't know for whom, or after what, or why. Getting colder and colder and colder, until one night, the sun lights up his heart. Burning bright, so bright, so beautiful - and so he reaches out; the heat gnawing at his skin.





	1. Good Grief

**Author's Note:**

> Decided to write this a few days ago, and figured it would somehow connect to my series. I apologize for the angst in this piece, it will get better with the following parts of the series, I promise!

Slamming the door shut with an annoyed huff, he strode over to his bed but decided against laying down a split second before he'd reached it; beginning to pace the room instead, still furious.  
  
He and Dean had gotten into yet another unnecessary fight, and as always, none of them had wanted to give in and admit that he was wrong. Now that Sam was alone, though, left to his own emotions and thoughts, he realized that his brother had been more than right when he'd said that they should corner the vampires in their nest rather than try to bait them out as it was obvious that they had better chances of winning in a narrow corridor than out in the open. However, he was Sam Winchester after all. So, of course he wouldn't just crawl back to Dean and apologize to him. He had his pride after all; and so the next time they discussed their hunt, he would just claim that he'd thought everything over and was willing to stick to his brother's plan instead.  
  
Finally having calmed down a little, he sat down on the edge of the bed, gazing down at his own slightly trembling hands before burying them in his dark hair. He'd been on edge lately - and he didn't have a single clue why.  
  
At first, he'd still been able to blame it on his physical state or exhaustion after a specifically rough case, without worrying too much, but that had been almost three weeks ago, and his condition was definitely not getting any better - he would even go as far as to say that he was worsening with each passing day. Luckily, neither Dean nor Cas had noticed anything so far, except for his occasional outbursts whenever something wasn't going the way he'd wanted it to go, and that he could handle.  
  
Taking a deep breath and exhaling audibly, he flopped down, his head hitting the soft pillow at the head of the bed.  
  
It wasn't only his temper that bothered him. He could deal with that. They all could, having spent so much time around hotheads and spitfires, and especially around Dean. But it wasn't just that.  
  
Sam was definitely used to nightmares and pulling all-nighters, although he hadn't experienced the former in a few months now - about which he was more than a little happy because not only was he able to sleep both longer and better, but also had Dean's constant nagging finally ceased. His brother had told him to _"sleep longer"_ because he was _"useless like that"_ at least once a day back when he'd still had his sleep problems but ever since the nightmares had stopped, so had the comments and lectures. Sure, he'd wondered how exactly his sleep had suddenly turned from restless and horrifying to refreshing and quiet, but he'd decided not to dwell on it too much. Don't look a gift horse in the mouth and all that.  
  
However, about three weeks ago, something had changed, again. He'd started waking up in the middle of the night with a sinking feeling settled low in his guts, feeling uncomfortable and nervous, but not terrified. Never terrified. Not even anxious. Just sad. Like a grief he'd never felt before, pulling at his heart and filling his lungs. He didn't know where it was coming from, this immense sadness, the pain he felt deep in his chest, but it had been alright at the beginning. Blaming it on their current situation or their latest loss or simply a dream he'd had and couldn't remember anymore, he'd gone back to sleep, ignoring the vast emptiness he felt inside that he just couldn't explain.  
  
But right now, that was impossible.  
  
One week after he'd first experienced this... _whatever this was_ , he'd still been without an explanation - but he'd had no reason to look for one anyway. Not until he'd found himself sitting at the dinner table, staring at his food without even a single trace of appetite, although his stomach had been roaring in complaint. That particular thing had, in fact, gotten Dean's attention but when he'd asked about it, Sam had simply told him he was probably just getting sick. His brother hadn't looked too convinced but had accepted the taller man's excuse with a shrug.  
  
Feeling Castiel's worried gaze boring into him, he'd forced himself to eat.  
  
Since that day, he'd tried his hardest to make his worsening condition go unnoticed, which was definitely not as easy as it sounded. He wasn't exactly tired - not as tired as he'd been when he'd still had the nightmares at least. It was the constant anguish that was bothering him the most, and that was getting harder and harder to cope with. Sam didn't even know if it was the sadness itself that was wearing him out so much - of course, it had taken both his appetite and his motivation away but he knew how to deal with grief, mostly - or the fact that he didn't even know where the hell it was coming from.  
  
After losing Jess, or his dad, or Kevin, or Charlie - or anyone he'd ever been close to, really -, he'd mourned for days, weeks, months even. Hell, it still made him feel both immensely sad and guilty, thinking about all the people they hadn't managed to save ever since they'd started hunting together again, but back then, he'd at least been able to track the feeling, to find its origin. The second he'd been left to his own thoughts, the very moment he'd run out of things and thoughts to occupy and distract himself with, whenever he'd been alone, when there had been nothing that could have kept his mind from wandering down streets paved with memories, snippets of the years that he would rather forget, he'd remembered, had seen images he just wished he wouldn't still remember.  
  
Now, he found himself _wishing_ for an image, _wishing_ for a _reason_ for the grief that he couldn't explain. He'd thought that mourning was bad. But this? He didn't even know what it was. Besides unhealthy, and tiring, and unnatural, at least.  
  
Waking up each morning, feeling even worse than the day before; it was killing him. Slowly, steadily sucking the energy out of his body. He wouldn't be able to keep this up much longer, not without knowing how or _why_ it was happening.  
  
It was bearable during cases, when they were out or simply together, when he was distracted and his brain was occupied with something. But even researching and reading was getting more and more difficult. The sadness was becoming heavier and heavier to carry, pulling him down and down and down and down.  
  
He'd tried looking through spellbooks, checking the internet; but the only thing he'd found had been online tests concerning depression and anxiety that he deliberately hadn't clicked on - he knew that he had issues, for God's sake! But even these issues were no explanation for the damn heartache he had to live with.  
  
He was exhausted, so very tired.  
  
Closing his eyes; his stomach clenching and his limbs feeling heavy; he breathed in deeply, trying to steer his thoughts away from the pain, the grief, the sadness, but his efforts were without success.  
  
Just when he'd been about to fall asleep, still fully dressed and with his stomach growling, something flashed right in front of his eyes as a single memory from last night returned to him. It was blurry, and brief, and golden, and bright.  
  
\--  
  
The next morning, he'd already forgotten about the small snippet of dream that he'd remembered. He'd even forgotten that he'd remembered it in the first place. And so everything went the way it always went. He got up, showered, brushed his teeth, got dressed, found Dean and Cas in the kitchen, forced a coffee and some toast down his protesting throat, asked if they had plans for today.  
  
It went like that for another week, and every single time he jumped awake, he thought that his misery had finally hit rock bottom - just to be proven wrong the next day. When he'd told himself that it couldn't possibly get worse; that sadness, missing appetite, demotivation, and all the other irritating symptoms of depression were the hardest thing to deal with, he'd been wrong.  
  
Anxiety followed. Headaches, sudden fits of coughs, unexpected dizziness, trembling hands, panic attacks, breakdowns. But not nightmares. Never nightmares.  
  
Dean noticed. Of course he did. Mental issues, that Sam could cover up, but the physical stuff? It simply wasn't possible. His brother was a little dense and inconsiderate at times, but definitely not stupid. And neither was Cas.  
  
So it wasn't actually surprising when the angel sternly said his name during dinner another week later, causing the taller man to look up from his plate and into a frowning face.  
  
\- "Sam, what's wrong?", Castiel asked, tilting his head a little in that typical way they all had gotten used to years ago.  
  
\- "What do you mean?", he simply gave back, nervously flexing his fingers, jumping at the chance to put down his fork and abandon his food for the time being. Eating had become nearly impossible,  
  
Dean cast him a pissed glance before speaking up, downright spitting at him as he angrily listed all the things he'd noticed throughout the week.  
  
Sam brushed it off, claiming that he was fine before he got up and stomped off to his room, head spinning, legs hurting, throat sore, knowing more than well that his lie had been obvious, that none of them believed his words but they didn't press, didn't call after him, didn't follow; just let him run like the coward he was. He didn't know if he was grateful or mad at them for leaving him alone.  
  
That was when the doubts started. The self-hatred. The fears. The feeling of worthlessness.  
  
He returned to his room, still hungry, still tired, still angry. Angry at himself. He'd been an idiot. Still was. A lost cause, a long shot.  
  
Why was he here? He was useless like this. He was nothing.  
  
Closing his eyes and taking a few deep breaths, he attempted not to think about how much he despised himself right now. But the worst part? He hated himself for hating himself. He just didn't understand. Why was he such a failure? Why was he so weak? So lost? So broken? He shouldn't be. He should be strong. Shouldn't be affected by something like this. By something this unimportant, and mundane. He'd had worse. He'd _fought_ worse. He'd _gotten through_ worse _without_ throwing such a _fit_.  
  
He shouldn't be so weak.  
  
He laid down on his bed, face first, barely able to breathe, with the pillow covering both his mouth and his nose. It took him five hours of motionlessly laying there, hands clasping the sheets, to finally fall asleep.  
  
No dreams. No waking up. Golden. The only thing he remembered in the morning was golden.  
  
Thinking back to the dream, he felt warm. For the first time ever since he'd first woken up, feeling cold and sad and heavy, he felt warm. At home. At peace. The memory stayed for a little longer than before, wrapped comfortably around his steadily beating heart like a cozy, warm blanket before it vanished, and he turned cold again.  
  
Everything turned cold again.  
  
Another week passed. He stayed in bed more often; and Cas and Dean had accepted it. It wasn't really Team Free Will anymore. Sam no longer considered himself part of the group.  
  
He used to want to come along, at all times, no matter what. A strong, selfless, slightly overreaching and somewhat stupid man who would've done anything just so he could come along, keep doing his job, keep saving people, keep being Sam Winchester, the friend, the brother, the hunter. It was his job. His purpose.  
  
But now? Now he didn't even want to anymore. He told Cas and Dean that he wanted to stay home instead of demanding to go with them. Or he didn't tell them anything at all. He was getting colder and colder and colder.  
  
But with the growing cold, the warmth returned. Not for long, never for long, but now and then, there would be a bright flash of golden right in front of his eyes. Rare moments in which the thoughts stopped, in which everything was at peace, in which he could breathe freely, if only for a second.  
  
He learned to appreciate them. They were all he had.  
  
And then, one night - it had been so long, _so unbelievably long_ -, he was laying in bed, again. Or still. Had been for over a day. Hadn't eaten, hadn't talked to anyone. Dean had yelled at him. Castiel had asked for the twentieth time if he was alright, if he needed anything. Sam had stayed quiet, had listened, had stared at the ceiling, silently agreeing to every word, every accusation that fell from Dean's lips, but still hadn't moved, hadn't even _tried_ to fight the sadness, to _fix things_.  
  
That night, he was at his lowest point. That, in itself, was nothing new. For some months now, every single day he'd been at his lowest point.  
  
But that night? He'd been awake for over thirty hours. Hadn't slept. Hadn't been able to. Something had been tugging at his heart, tearing at it like it was trying to pull him along, but he'd had no energy. Had kept gazing at the ceiling, lost in his own, hateful, self-accusing thoughts.  
  
Now, his eyelids felt heavy. There was a warmth inside of him, in his chest, and his stomach, and his every limb.  
  
He noticed that he was falling asleep, and he appreciated it. No more thoughts. No more doubts. Rest. At least for an hour. Falling asleep, feeling warm, and content, and safe.  
  
He'd stopped questioning it long ago. Saying that he'd gotten used to it would've been nothing but a lie, but one could say that he didn't really care anymore. He'd tried finding a solution for the dread, and he hadn't succeeded. And he'd lost all his energy to keep trying. He appreciated the brief moments of warmth and comfort but knew better than to expect them. They would pass. Whatever was causing them wouldn't be causing them forever. Good things always passed. At least for him, they always did.  
  
But right now, he doubted that. Right now, he really did.  
  
Bright, everything was bright, so dazzling bright.  
  
He was dreaming. He knew that he was dreaming. Somehow, he knew. Although it felt real. So very real. His eyes darted around, from left to right and back, everywhere and anywhere, trying to take in his surroundings, to make out something, anything, but there was nothing, nothing but gold.  
  
Nothing but bright, beautiful gold.  
  
And then there was something even brighter.  
  
\- "Fucking _finally!"_  
  
The world lit up around him. Golden, mixed with traces of yellow and orange and brown, so bright, so beautiful, moving, dancing, right in front of his eyes.  
  
His heart skipped a beat. Then it started racing.  
  
He knew that voice. He knew it so well it scared him. Every single syllable sounded familiar, so very familiar, like he'd never listened to anything else. His heart was beating rapidly in his tight chest. He could feel his own blood pumping through his veins. His mind was clear. But his heartbeat was so loud, so deafeningly loud, that he couldn't hear his own thoughts anymore.  
  
Taking a deep breath to steady himself, he turned around.  
  
Bright, so bright.  
  
So beautiful.  
  
\- "Heya, Sammich", the figure said, a confident smirk playing on his lips as he buried his hands in the pockets of his jacket. "Missed me?"  
  
Gleaming whiskey eyes met his.  
  
And every pressing trace of sadness was lifted.


	2. Bad Mirth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam can't believe Gabriel is back. And so he doesn't. Shouting ensues. And a little bit of fluff.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally finished this! It took me way too long. And it IS way too long too! I was aiming for ~2000 words but well, seems like things spiraled out of control a little. Shout-out to the three amazing people who motivated and helped me with this chapter thingy!  
> Might be OOC. Ugh.

Gabriel's grin was vibrant, perky, cheerful; quite the contrast to the way Sam was still gawking motionlessly, jaw dropped and eyes widened. What the hell was happening?  
  
\- "I think we can drop this now, eh?", the archangel spoke, and with a wink and a snap of his fingers, the brightness began to die down. At first, Sam felt a heavy sadness pool in his guts at the thought of losing the happiness as the golden slowly vanished; there was a strong urge inside him, to raise his voice, to beg Gabriel not to let the light die; but he found that he didn't even need to speak up. The uncomfortably tight feeling that had welled up in his chest was replaced by both relief and awe as the fading brightness revealed his surroundings.  
  
The colors stayed the same. Clear, beautiful hues of yellow, orange, golden, and brown.  
  
They were facing each other in the middle of a clearing, a slight breeze ruffling up their hair as it blew past them, wrenching autumn leaves from their twigs and carrying them until they silently whirled to the ground.  
  
Sam huffed softly once he'd snapped back to reality, tearing his eyes away from the unusually blue open sky above. He opened his mouth to say something, words already beginning to spill, when Gabriel cut him off without even seeming to care.  
  
\- "Sorry about... _this"_ , he vaguely gestured around, scrunching up his nose in distaste. "Wanted to take you somewhere else but it was hard enough to get in here in the first place,--"  
  
\- "Gabriel."  
  
\- "--It took me months, actually--,  
  
\- _"Gabriel."_  
  
\- "--the whole process was a real pain in the ass if you as-"  
  
\- "Gabriel, will you just _shut up_ for a second!", the hunter interrupted in a loud voice, and Gabriel finally snapped his mouth shut, raising a questioning eyebrow at him.  
  
\- "What do you mean, _"in here"_?!"  
  
The look that the angel gave him was one of pure annoyance, accompanied by an exaggerated sigh and a not-so-subtle eyeroll, but Sam knew better than to take the gesture all too seriously. He hadn't known Gabriel too well before he'd passed, but definitely well enough to understand that the angel loved being dramatic at times.  
  
\- "Your dream, _smartass_. Thought you'd figured that out by now."  
  
Sam could feel the headache approaching as he replayed the words over and over again, but no matter how hard he tried to come up with some kind of explanation for the situation he'd found himself in, he was left out in the cold. Was he going completely crazy now? Had whatever sickness it was that had befallen him made him delirious? He honestly wouldn't be surprised. Maybe he'd taken the last step now and fallen into some kind of coma, slowly dying in his own bed while Cas and Dean--  
  
\- "Oh, for Dad's sake!"  
  
Gabriel strode over to where Sam was still wordlessly standing at the exact same spot as before, lost in his own thoughts, and came to a stop right in front of him to glare up at the taller man. The hunter figured that the archangel was presumably trying to seem intimidating, but the first thing that came to his mind was how _short_ Gabriel actually was - he'd noticed the man's height before, of course he had, almost _everyone_ was shorter than him after all, but somehow, the angel had been somewhat taller in his memories.  
  
\- "You", Gabriel began, jabbing his index finger into Sam's chest with a little too much force, making Sam wonder if one could feel pain while in a coma, "are dreaming."  
  
He couldn't help but roll his eyes, though with some kind of fondness.  
  
He'd figured that out himself already, thank you very much. He'd felt it the second he'd found himself standing in the middle of overwhelming brightness, actually, and he'd been sure on a _superconscious_ level when he'd first laid eyes on the archangel in front of him. Apparently, his mind had been playing some digusting tricks on him for _months_ , just so he could be reminded of the man he'd lost five years ago. Freaking _great_. It was clear to him now - and he had no doubts about that - that someone must've either put a spell on him or mixed a potion into one of his drinks, because sudden depression and anxiety that led to lucid dreaming - something he'd never experienced before even _once_ \- was definitely nothing natural that just _happened_ to people on a regular basis.  
  
\- "I got that much", he responded dryly when Gabriel made no move to keep talking, and looked around for some sort of clock or an easy opportunity to kill himself. He'd been told that stuff like that made people wake up from dreams, so it was worth a try, wasn't it? Assuming he was dreaming at all, that was. It wasn't like he had anything better to do anyway, and he would rather stay awake all night and live with the sadness and the pain instead of spending time with the _trickster_ of all people in his freaking _dreams_. And also, the calmness and the contentment blooming in his chest was making him feel somewhat uneasy, too. There was no reason for him to be calm. _Hell_ , he should be _bursting_ _with anger_ right now, but all he could feel was cozy, comforting warmth, wrapped around him like a blanket he couldn't shrug off, although his mind was _screaming at him_ , telling him to _pay Gabriel back_ for all the _pain_ and _hurt_ he'd caused, but he couldn't. It just wasn't _possible_.  
  
\- "I always knew you were the smart one", the archangel shot back, winking at him before taking a step back. "So, that's it? No welcome-back hug? No 'I missed you'? No heavy make-out session? Just staring?" The single raised eyebrow told Sam that he was, in fact, being serious; at least to some extent, but the hunter decided to ignore that for the time being.  
  
\- "You yourself just said that I'm dreaming. Look, I'm really just looking for a way out of here so-"  
  
An exaggerated sigh shut him up, and for a second he wondered why he'd even closed his mouth because of Gabriel's stupid attention deficit disorder or whatever in the first place, since there was nothing even _close_ to a reason for him to listen to the angel, but his thoughts were once again interrupted by the shorter man.  
  
\- "Sam."  
  
Was this the first time he'd ever called Sam by his real name? It was, wasn't it? Oh boy, and did it make his flesh crawl - in the bad way, of course, _definitely in the bad way_.  
  
\- "You aren't listening. I was gonna be patient but I'm just really fucking done with your shit, okay?", he breathed, letting himself fall backwards. Just like that. Sam was caught in a struggle as a million thoughts rushed through his head within split seconds; not sure if he was supposed to bolt forward so Gabriel wouldn't just plop down on the ground or if he should simply stand by and watch - which appeared to be the more logical choice, really. Not even mentioning the fact that the archangel was a) only a figure in his dreams, and b) a _freaking archangel_ who was more than capable of getting his own ass up from the floor. And so Sam stood, still motionless, watching Gabriel with his brows furrowed.  
  
That was when the blond lifted his hand, changing the scenery around them with a single snap of his fingers, and conjuring up a couch right below himself that caught him immediately. Propping his feet up on a small coffee table, he slid down until he was comfortable, and stretched before intertwining his fingers on his stomach.  
  
\- "Have a seat, Sambrador", he grinned, gesturing towards the armchair across, and Sam reluctantly walked over - the first step he'd taken ever since he'd opened his eyes! - and sat down, practically perching on the edge of the chair. Trust the trickster and risk getting played again? Not today, thank you very much! One simply couldn't be too careful around the archangel, he'd had to learn that the hard way multiple times by now, and he surely wasn't going to make the same mistake again. Actually, he hadn't even wanted to move, let alone take a seat in the first place, but he'd figured that it was, still, only a dream, and that he should probably just get this over with - and out of here - as soon as possible, which meant playing along, at least for now; no matter how much it pissed him off.  
  
Maybe dream Gabriel did, in fact, have answers to some of his questions; and after all, there was a small chance that he impersonated some of Sam's inner feelings or thoughts, just like Bobby and Death back when he'd been in hospital after attempting - and failing - to cure Crowley in order to pass the third trial. The idea seemed a little more appealing and definitely less weird to him, but soon enough, he discovered that it wasn't exactly causing the uneasiness to cease. Thinking about it, there didn't seem to be a single reasonable explanation for why his brain would choose _Gabriel_ for that instead of someone he knew well, someone he had a deeper connection to, someone he trusted and _loved_.  
  
Sure, the archangel had saved their lives, and informed them about the four rings that they'd needed to gain access to the cage - but he'd also played them; and taken Dean's life. Over a hundred times. A thousand, maybe, Sam had lost count somewhere between the twentieth and the thirtieth Tuesday. And while that would be a reason for Gabriel to impersonate something like anger, or hate, or simply the feeling of betrayal or hurt, the man seemed calm, cheerful, and disgustingly unfitting for the emotions. And he didn't make _Sam_ feel angry either.  
  
So why? Why him? Why not Dean, or Kevin, or Bobby? Anyone could've worked, really. Anyone but _Gabriel_ , for fuck's sake!  
  
\- "Alright, Sammich, listen up this time, will you?"  
  
Sam directed his attention back at Gabriel and sighed a soft "Yeah" in response, already exhausted by the shorter man's mere _presence_ \- and it had barely been, what, twenty minutes?  
  
\- "You're dreaming. That much you got, right?"  
  
\- "Of course, Gabriel, I--"  
  
\- "Great. So, Dean-o probably told you that good ol' Cassie hijacked his dreams once or twice a few years back", he interrupted again, forcing Sam to take a long, deep breath in order to calm himself. He really hadn't missed these conversations. Well, looking back now, he'd barely _had_ any of them, seeing as Gabriel had rarely been around before his death, only getting on their nerves a few times, before... he'd given his life for them. Hm. It was kind of sad, if he thought about it now. Just when they'd discovered who and what he was, and that he did, in fact, have feelings, and a reason, and a heart, and a family he loved, he'd died at the hand of his own brother. Sam kind of regretted not talking to Gabriel more; maybe the archangel would have turned out to be a likeable man after all - and even if he hadn't, that didn't change the fact that he was one of them, one of the good guys, at least partly. And one of the many that the hunter hadn't been able to save. He sighed, trying to push the thoughts to the back of his mind to focus on the current situation.  
  
Looking back up at Gabriel, meeting his amber eyes, Sam found that getting rid of the doubts and worries was easier than he'd originally thought. One look into the golden orbs, and he felt the nagging feeling in his chest ebb away. It was unsettling and kind of weird, _it definitely was_ , but right now, it was at least playing into his hands; and so he decided to accept it without any second thoughts. Clearing his throat, he raised his voice to respond.  
  
\- "He... He did mention it a few times, yeah. Cas would... visit him in his dreams, tell him something important, just... contact him from far away, I guess? Why?"  
  
He knew where this was going, and he didn't like it. Oh hell, he didn't. This was worse than his former theories. And so he played dumb, trying to coax some more answers out of the angel, hoping that he would somehow be able to escape this nightmare that wasn't a nightmare. He'd had enough of the mindfuck during the past few months, and he'd been glad he'd at least been able to _sleep_ and _dream_ without it - he should've known that it wouldn't take long until that would change, too. He really wasn't a lucky man.  
  
\- "Oh, _come on_ , are you honestly _that_ dense? Is it cloudy up there? Not enough oxygen?", Gabriel downright sneered, though it was rather exaggerated, lifting both hands in frustration. Sighing dramatically, the archangel rolled his eyes and tipped his head back to stare at the ceiling with a drawn-out groan. "I wasted _months_ of my time trying to get back to you sexy moose of a man, and when I finally do, I see you're not even _half_ as intelligent as I remember. What happened, Sammich? Did that last resurrection kill some of your brain cells?"  
  
Hearing these words spill from Gabriel's mouth, Sam snapped. Finally, the anger was pumping boiling blood through his veins, finally, there was a feeling he recognized, something he was used to, something he _knew_ , and so he gave in without hesitating, fists clenching as he raised his voice.  
  
\- "No, Gabriel, the _thing_ is that what you're saying is _bullshit_! Why would I play along with your crap?! Why do you expect me to _care_ if it's not even _real?!_ You...you're telling me you _hijacked my dreams_ or something but I know that's not true, because it _can't be true_ , because you're _dead!_ And god dammit, I wish you were saying the _truth_ because then at least _one good thing_ would be happening in my life right now, but you're _not!_ And _I got that_. Yeah, Gabriel, I _did!_ " He paused, at a loss for words after his outburst, heaving a shaky breath as he licked his lips before looking back up at Gabriel. The puzzled honey orbs seemed to calm him a little again, but that bit of composure went straight out the window when he continued talking, surprisingly _without_ an interruption on behalf of the angel.  "What's going on? For real now, am I-- am I dying again? Are you some fucked-up hallucination? An _'incarnation of my deepest emotions'?"_ , he growled, humorlessly spitting the mocking words at the archangel - no, at the _fraud_ , a distant voice in his mind reminded him -, his tone distant and cold as he fixated his icy gaze on the man in front of him.  
  
The expression on Gabriel's face shifted as he leaned forward, forearms propped up on his own thighs. There was no mischevious gleam in his eyes anymore, no playful smirk gracing his lips as he looked at Sam, and the hunter noticed that the only time he'd seen the angel seem _this_ serious had been when he'd confronted Lucifer back in the hotel. He felt the distant urge to bolt, but resisted, cold gaze set on Gabriel.  
  
\- "Sam."  
  
A shiver ran down the taller man's back but he refused to acknowledge it.  
  
\- "I'm not dead. This is real. I swear to Dad it is."  
  
Sam huffed a dry, distant laugh, turning his head away.  
  
\- "And I should believe you why exactly? You did nothing but lie to us. You _played us_ , Gabriel, over and over again. You _killed Dean over and over again!"_  
  
The angel seemed to be thinking about that before he gave a small shrug, smiling apologetically at the hunter - and successfully adding fuel to the fire.  
  
\- "Yeah, sorry for that. Not one of my best moves", he admitted sheepishly, and just when Sam had been about to protest, Gabriel lifted his hand to stop him from talking, and although the taller man hadn't _wanted_ to shut up, he did anyway.  
  
\- "Listen, I know I pulled some crap" Sam glared at him. "Okay, _a lot of crap_ , I got it! But Samsquatch, that was _ages_ ago. You saw me standing up, didn't you? Hm?"  
  
The smirk was back on his lips, a little more tentative than before, but still present, and the hunter sighed. Gabriel was right. At least partly. Ever since Dean had called him out on his shit, the only thing he'd tried was to help - and in the end, he'd done just that. He'd saved them from Lucifer, he'd died for them. And exactly _that_ was Sam's issue with the whole thing - he'd _died_.  
  
\- "I told you I didn't die. I got out of there. You think _Luci_ is smart enough to see through my tricks? Wow, Sammich, I'm hurt!" Raising his hand, he placed his palm on his own chest in feigned shock, but the grin on his lips betrayed his play.  
  
Deciding that telling Gabriel to stop reading his thoughts definitely wouldn't be worth it, Sam let it slide.  
  
\- "Where's your proof?"  
  
The angel reclined again, his back hitting the backrest with a low thump as he groaned. The  hunter crossed his arms in front of his chest, feeling slightly offended by the reaction. _He_ had every right in the world to be pissed off and angry at the man in front of him, but _Gabriel?_ No. This was _his_ fault, so it was _his_ job to smooth this out, and if he expected Sam to go easy on him after all he'd done just because he batted his eyelashes at him, he was a fucking _idiot._  
  
\- "You can't expect me to believe you just like that."  
  
Folding his hands, Gabriel nodded with an understanding expression on his face, though it was obvious that it wasn't genuine. Sam was proven right in his assumption when the archangel spoke up softly, his voice sounding both exhausted and annoyed.  
  
\- "Of course not, because that would be _too fucking easy"_ , he huffed to himself but Sam caught the words anyway, snorting coolly in response. "Didn't you, I don't know, notice anything? During the last months? I managed to get into your dreams once or twice but you never really registered me. Don't remember anything? Nothing?"  
  
The gears started to turn in his head until suddenly, his thoughts flashed back to the dreams he'd had back then, or at least the snippets he'd remembered right after waking up. As if Gabriel's words had flipped a switch in his mind, the memories came rushing back to him, bright golden that vanished again in the blink of an eye, and things slowly started to dawn on him.  
  
\- "Wait, _that's_ why I've been feeling like crap all the time?! Because you were _hopping around in my dreams?!"_  
  
\- "What? I--"  
  
\- "Gabriel, I haven't been hunting in a _month_ because of this crap you're pulling! I-... I haven't left my bed in _days!"_  
  
\- "...Oh shit."  
  
Sam snorted, noticeably unamused.  
  
\- "Just to make that clear, that was _not_ on purpose! I was just trying to get to you, how should I know that it affects you like that! You think I'm doing this on a daily basis or something?", he attempted to defend himself, but to no avail. Sam wouldn't let him get off the hook that easily, oh hell no. Gabriel had caused this mess, and so Gabriel would have to stand up for it.  
  
\- "I think that you should at least have a mere _idea_ what the hell you're doing!"  
  
Lifting a hand to awkwardly rub his neck, Gabriel flashed him a sheepish grin that seemed like a poor excuse for a wordless apology but Sam simply pinched the bridge of his nose with two fingers, audibly sucking in an exhausted breath.  
  
\- "Why didn't this happen to Dean?", he asked after some minutes of silence, once the hopeful smile had slid off Gabriel's face and he'd started to awkwardly bite his lip, guiltily looking down at his own feet as he rubbed his hands together. There was no compassion in Sam, though. The shorter man more than deserved this, after making the hunter go through all this pain over the past years.  
  
At his words, the angel yanked his head up, locking eyes with Sam and humming softly, seemingly lost in thought.  
  
\- "No clue, Samalam", he gave back eventually, after a short time of considering. "Maybe 'cause Cassie's powers were stronger? I didn't have a lot of mine when I started this. Actually, I would've tried to reach you much sooner but well," He shrugged mindlessly, averting his eyes and looking past the taller man instead, "I guess I was too weak. That's probably why I only got to you now. Maybe I could've made it sooner if I hadn't tried every night" A laugh escaped his lips but it sounded more bitter than actually amused, and so Sam cocked his head to the side, genuinely curious.  
  
\- "So why did you? Try every night, I mean. What was so important that you couldn't wait?"  
  
When their eyes met again, the hunter could already see that whatever Gabriel was going to say was would be nothing but the real deal. Anticipation ran through his veins, and he nervously flexed his fingers as he waited for a response. It couldn't possibly be too bad, right? Maybe there was another apocalypse coming their way, or some idiot had freed Lucifer from his cage or--  
  
\- "Like I said, I like you", Gabriel muttered under his breath, but before Sam could open his mouth to say something, the angel had already spoken up again. "You know how it is, Sammich, what you like you don't let go, amiright?"  
  
His words sounded happy, cheerful, as amused and cheeky as always, but there was this gleam in his eyes. This tension in his body that Sam couldn't possibly _not_ notice. The hunter licked his lips, the uncomfortable silence starting to become oppressive. Okay. So Gabriel liked him. Nothing special to that, right?  
  
_Except for the fact that he'd been making Sam suffer ever since they'd first met, maybe. And except for the basically zero conversations they'd had that had_ not _come about on a hateful basis or in the heat of the moment, because for real, apart from the times when they'd been hunting the trickster, they **hadn't fucking**_ _**talked**._ He sighed, shakily. Maybe that was what this was all about. It seemed to be the only explanation. That he liked to play Sam, to mess with him, to make him go crazy - maybe he was nothing but a toy to the archangel; because anything else _simply wouldn't make any sense_. There was no reason for Gabriel to _genuinely_ like him, not a single one, not after everything he'd done to him, not after how much he'd enjoyed making him suffer, not after the way he'd given in to Sam's begging after he'd killed Dean... not after he'd cast a last glance at the hunter as they'd fled from the hotel... _not after he'd given his life for them._  
  
For him.  
  
His heart skipped a beat. Looking up at the angel, he noticed the way he wrang his hands and avoided Sam's gaze; regret and the panic painfully clear in his eyes as he chewed on the inside of his cheek. That was when the meaning of what Gabriel had said got through to him.  
  
Shit. Shit _shitshit **shit.**_  
  
Sucking in a breath that made the angel flinch, he felt his head starting to spin. Breathing was getting harder. This was too much. He was going to throw up.  
  
\- "I..-- I mean, you-..."  
  
No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't find the words. He couldn't find _any_ words. He was panicking. He didn't know what to say, what to do, the heavy silence weighing down on him. How was he supposed to respond to that? Had he misinterpreted Gabriel's words? Oh God, he couldn't do this. He didn't know where he was, the world starting to spin around him. Trying his hardest to focus, he cast a careful glance at the angel, desperate, _eager_ to seek for _some kind of answer_ in his eyes, something to _prove_ the theory that he was trying to _push to the back of his mind so badly_ , the theory that _couldn't be true_. Whiskey eyes; his vision cleared a little. He breathed in. Tried to ignore the forced smile on Gabriel's face, but he failed miserably. He knew that he was right. And it hurt more than it should have.  
  
The very second the angel opened his mouth, Sam, neither willing nor ready to hear any more of the jokes and the excuses and the staged laughs, blurted out the first words he could come up with; unable to let Gabriel even _try_ to play this off after making a confession this sudden and unexpected and _abrupt,_ without even giving him the _hint_ of a warning. It would've hurt too much. He had to be selfish. He was hurting too much already.  
  
\- "You-- You're in _love_ with me?!"  
  
Maybe he should've paid a little more attention to his wording and volume, seeing as Gabriel jumped noticeably at the sudden shout, but, to be fair, it was his own fault, having caught Sam completely off-guard with the unexpected avowal.  
  
Sure, the angel had been hitting on him now and then, but it was _Gabriel_ after all. He hit on everyone who crossed his path and seemed even remotely attractive enough - hell, he'd delivered the info on the four rings using _porn!_ Sam took a shaky breath, feeling the doubts return as he closed his eyes. Or at least it felt like doubts at first. _At least he pretended they were doubts._  
  
The archangel had been confident, playful, so full of himself; had never minced his words, and as soon as _anyone_ had voiced their thoughts and view on things, he'd laid out his own without hesitation, unable to accept opinions that weren't his own. Now, though? He seemed unsure. So small and lost and embarrassed and hopeless; and although there should be alarm bells shrilling in Sam's head, there was nothing. He tried to force himself to build up the distance from before again, to pull back, to put on a stony expression, but instead, he leaned forward, both metaphorically and literally, brows furrowed in worry. No doubts. Just worry. Worry for Gabriel. Worry for the the angel who'd made his life hell. _Worry for the man he should be hating._  
  
He was quite sure that, in his whole life, his thoughts had never been as messed-up as they were right now.  
  
\- "There's a reason why I'm calling you hot stuff, Sammy", Gabriel forced out after a few seconds, and if Sam hadn't been so focused on every single feature on his face and every crack in his voice, maybe he wouldn't have noticed the nervousness behind his words. His newly regained patience was scraping the limit again already.  
  
\- _"Gabriel."_  
  
Finally, their eyes met.  
  
\- "Yeah. I am. So what?", the angel shot back all of a sudden, clenching his fists. "You got a problem with that? It's my business, isn't it? If you're still talking to me just so you can screw me up, you can fuck right off, Sam."  
  
\- "I'm not talking to you to _screw you up!"_ _But maybe to screw you_ , his mind added, and he intently cursed Gabriel for already influencing him in the worst ways possible after spending a few minutes together, "I just wanna know what's going on, Gabe!" Cringing at the unintentional nickname, he found himself hoping that the angel wouldn't pay any attention to it, but judging by the fire that was still burning in his honey eyes and the lack of reaction, Gabriel either hadn't noticed, or simply didn't care. Either one worked for Sam, honestly.  
  
\- "I think you know quite well what's going on, Sam", he snarled in response; his eyes starting to light up softly, a barely noticeable trace of blue flashing up around his pupils, and while Sam would've normally backed up at  the sight, it only wound him up even more. Getting up - and wondering how they'd even managed to make it that far without rising from their seats and shouting at each other -, he straightened himself, glaring down at Gabriel.  
  
He'd meant to be patient. He really had. But it wasn't his fault that the angel had carried things too far, it wasn't his fault that Gabriel couldn't get his shit together. And so he didn't even care anymore.  
  
\- "Oh, do I? So you mean it's understandable that you _die_ and then make me go through my _worst time ever years later_ to _return in my dreams_ without telling me _where the fuck you've been_ or how you're even still _alive_ , just so you can tell me you're _in love with me?_ Well, yeah, now that I'm saying it out loud, that sounds _perfectly reasonable!"_  
  
Now it was Gabriel's turn to finally stand up; and the image Sam saw in front of him reminded him of the way the archangel had confronted Lucifer all those years back - except this time, there was even more anger in his glowing eyes as the lights started to flicker, and the shadows of ruffled, tattered wings rose up behind him.  
  
Sam Winchester rarely felt scared. But 'rarely' didn't mean 'never'.  
  
He'd gotten used to the fear that had been his constant companion for the past few months. But this? This was bad. This was really fucking bad. And the worst part? He just still wouldn't step down. Kept standing straight and glaring at the angel in front of him, despite knowing that his current behavior was close to suicidal. Gabriel seemed so much more _furious_ , so much more _powerful_ than ever before; and he suddenly understood why he'd been so much _taller_ in his memories, seeing as _this_ had been the last thing he'd ever seen of him.  
  
An image he would never forget, truly.  
  
\- "Do you even know how much bullshit I had to go through to finally get to you?! Can't you just... at least _pretend_ to appreciate it?! What is your fucking problem?!"  
  
Sam couldn't help but huff a bitter laugh at that, casting a glance up at the ceiling with a disbelieving shake of his head.  
  
\- "What is my--... You made me go through _months of pain_ and tell me you _'did it for me'_ although I didn't even _ask for it!"_ , he growled, putting the few words in airquotes; only slightly intimidated by the way Gabriel was staring at him with his fists clenched by his sides. "Oh, and what's that, the list goes on! You _killed my brother a thousand times_ to _'help me'_ , you _fucked with us_ , you _hijacked my dreams without my permission_ \- go ahead, choose your favorite!"  
  
\- "I-- Are you fucking _serious?!_ I _told you_ I'm sorry for that crap! That's what the fuck I'm here for, you--! Why can't you just fucking _accept_ it?! Great, I'm sorry I didn't _know_ about the way I was fucking you up when I was using _every last bit of my power_ to _reach you!_ Happy now?!"  
  
\- " _That_ is the problem, Gabriel! You _didn't know!_ I didn't ask for it. I didn't ask you to come back. I used to pray to you, but _too fucking bad_ , it's too late! I didn't want you to come back. But you didn't even consider that, did you? You thought that we were _missing you like hell_. Well, _guess what_ , we _weren't._ We were doing just fine without you."  
  
Gabriel shook his head, puffing out a breath before the unamused smile left his lips again. Sam had hit a sore spot.  
  
\- "What do you want me to do about that? I'm an _angel_ , Sam, not a fucking _time traveler_. I can't change the fucking past! I made a mistake, I was selfish, and I _said_ I'm sorry! You've done the same before, so why is _this_ such a fucking issue?! 'Oh, look, it's Gabriel, the archangel, trying to save at least _one thing_ that's important to him after losing _everything he had_ , what a selfish bastard!' But as soon as Dean's dying, you--"  
  
\- "Dean has _nothing_ to do with this! This is your own mess!"  
  
\- "Stop changing the topic, Sam", Gabriel ground out, squinting his eyes shut and visibly trying to regain his composure. "I'm here, and neither of us can change what happened, _sorry for that!"_ , he spat, words dripping with venom before his gaze turned stern, almost emotionless, the most flawless poker face Sam had ever laid eyes on. "I'll leave and never come back if you want me to. Just say it. Tell me you don't _give a shit_ and I'm outta here."  
  
Sam breathed in deeply, staring at his own shoes on the dark brown hardwood floor of the unfamiliar room, weighing his options. Or well, letting his mind and his heart fight a minor war inside him, rather. Common sense was screaming at him, telling him to say the few words, to get out of there and expel Gabriel from his life once and for all, but--  
  
\- "I can't."  
  
The words left his mouth before he could bite them back, and he buried his hands in the pockets of his jacket, still gazing at the ground.  
  
Gabriel choked out a laugh, flopping back down on the couch with a cold smirk.  
  
\- "You can't", he echoed, voice icy, "Of course you fucking _can!_ Just _say it_ , what's so fucking hard about that?!"  
  
\- "Maybe it's hard because I'm in love with you too!"  
  
He didn't know where the words had come from, but they made his head blur and his heart ache. He was stupid. So goddamn stupid.  
  
The thought had been whirling around in his mind for quite some time now. Ever since he'd laid eyes on Gabriel, actually. But he'd refused to consider, let alone _voice_ it. This feeling of calmness and warmth and comfort so _despisingly present_ whenever he looked at the angel, got lost in the sparkling whiskey eyes. The peaceful dreams, the flashes of golden that had filled him with _contentment_ and _love_. The guilt he felt thinking about Gabriel's death and him using up the last traces of his grace trying to reach him. Coincidences, nothing but stupid, senseless coincidences, caused by his drugged and messed-up brain. He'd been trying to find excuses and explanations that made him feel better about this whole mess, he'd been trying to deny it, to push it to the back of his mind and forget about it all. But now that all the puzzle pieces had found their rightful place in the picture, there was no turning it around anymore. There were no holes, no gaps he could stuff with lies and petty excuses. It made sense. Everything made sense. And he hated it. He hated his emotions. He hated himself.  
  
Gabriel was gaping, staring at him like a goldfish, trying to process the spoken words and just when Sam had thought that maybe, just maybe, the archangel was going to finally get his shit together, calm down, and drop his asshole attitude, if only for a goddamn _minute_ , he sneered.  
  
\- "Shut it, Sam, for real. Whatever you're trying, just fucking _drop it,_ alright?!"  
  
\- "Can you _stop_ making _assumptions_ for _one goddamn second_ , Gabriel?!"  
  
The only response he got was silence, accompanied by a deadly glare that would've made anyone tremble with fear. Anyone but Sam at least. The blue in Gabriel's eyes had died down again, but the fury burning in them was still more than present, alarmingly threatening. But the hunter couldn't afford backing off now. He'd said it out loud. And although he hated it, although he hated _everything about this situation_ , there was no turning back now. So his only option was to try and work this out. To try and make _Gabriel understand_. It hadn't been his decision, it hadn't been his will. It hadn't been what he'd wanted. He'd never wanted to fall in love. He'd never thought he would. But he had. And no matter how much he wanted to hate the angel, he couldn't. And neither could he give up on him, not again, not ever again.  
  
He breathed out in an attempt to calm his nerves, before he continued his speech.  
  
\- "I care, Gabe" Judging by the slight shift of expression on the angel's face, he'd caught the nickname this time. "I care that you wasted your power trying to get to me; and I care about where you are and what you're doing and _how_ you are. I _hate it_ , I really do - but I care about you, okay? I... I'm sorry for calling you out on that crap, I know it's not your fault and I-- I know we all made mistakes. I don't know what happened. I lost it. So yeah. Sorry. I'm sorry" He spoke softly, yet clearly enough for Gabriel to easily catch his words. God, he felt horrible, and so impossibly _stupid_ \- _ashamed_ would be an actual understatement. He didn't even know why he'd started yelling at the archangel in the first place; too blinded by the anger, and the confusion, and all the piled-up thoughts and emotions that had taken over. Driven by rage and the urge to feel like himself again - he'd felt the anger, something _familiar_ \- and he'd given in to it like a vampire, a _monster_ , to the smell of blood.  
  
He'd been too scared of his feelings, too dazed. Too proud and too broken. Too ashamed.  
  
He could breathe again now. His mind was clear - or as clear as it could possibly be in a situation like this, at least - and he felt like the ability to make logical decisions and to _think before he spoke_ had finally returned to him. However, that didn't help the guilt creeping up his spine and down his throat, settling deep in his stomach. If not, it was even making it even worse.  
  
\- "You're serious", Gabriel's voice cut through the tense silence that had settled down, his eyes widened in surprise but the expression on his face just as blank as before. Sam couldn't really blame him - he himself had thought that he hated the archangel like poison, until tonight. Until he'd finally realized and accepted what he'd been trying so hard to push away.  
  
\- "Yeah."  
  
For a while, not a single word was spoken as they stared at each other without moving a muscle; Sam still standing in the middle of the room, and Gabriel sitting silently on the couch, hands folded in his lap.  
  
The archangel was the first to speak up again, after Sam's attempts had failed due to the lump in his throat, and the hunter couldn't help but roll his eyes and sit down with a huff when he caught the familiar gleam in Gabriel's whiskey orbs.  
  
\- "Well then, Sammy, normally I'd offer to snog you senseless right now but the sun's almost up already", he shrugged with a smirk, snapping his fingers and turning their surroundings from comfortable living room into open field, with only their seats and the small coffee table still around. Sam sighed softly, biting back the slight grin tugging at his lips as he laid eyes on the golden star looming on the horizon - that Gabriel had definitely not conjured up to back his words, he presumed. Normally, he wouldn't have gone along withthe archangel's sudden mood swing. But he was so tired of talking, so tired of arguing. He couldn't even get himself to care; smiling weakly at the shorter man instead.

\- "So I guess we'll have to postpone our first make-out session so you can make up with Dean-o or whatever."  
  
Jumping up from his spot on the couch, he sauntered over to where Sam was still sitting, choosing the way right over the desk instead of walking around it like any normal human being would've done - then again, Gabriel was the farthest away from normal one could possibly be.  
  
\- "You need two steps to get over the table", the hunter pointed out with a smirk as he stood, and the angel snorted, trying to play offended, but the pure look of happiness and contentment on his face betrayed his childish pout.  
  
\- "Shut up and get down here, Samsquatch!"  
  
To his own surprise, Sam complied immediately, leaning over while placing his hands on Gabriel's waist until their lips met, gently, and only for less than a second, but it was more than enough for the taller man.  
  
He couldn't help but laugh when they parted. He'd fallen. Harder than he'd ever thought he would. And he hadn't even realized. God, he was one hell of a lost cause.  
  
\- "Something funny, Sammoose?", Gabriel perked up, playfully raising an eyebrow at him, and Sam shook his head, smiling softly.  
  
\- "This is just so ridiculous."  
  
The angel shrugged at that, pulling a face.  
  
\- "I really don't care to be honest", he huffed before he got on his tiptoes to press another kiss to the hunter's lips, a little more demanding than before. "And don't you dare back down now, Sammy, I'll find you anywhere", the angel added with a smirk and Sam rolled his eyes at the words - he felt like he was going to be doing that a lot in the near future.  
  
\- "Right, whatever. So...how do I get out of here now?"  
  
\- "By waking up, genius. We'll have limited time each night, I suppose. Like an escort, except--"  
  
Sam quickly jumped in before Gabriel could finish that sentence, effectively shutting up by kissing him once more, though the suggestive smirk never left the archangel's lips.  
  
\- "Okay, Gabe, I think I got it, thank you."  
  
\- "If you say so, Sambrador! Time to get you up and out of here, huh?"  
  
\- "Wait!", the taller man cut in, stopping Gabriel's hand mid-air by wrapping his fingers around his wrist. "What about you? Where are you going?"  
  
\- "I'll be waitin', Samalam" A grin flashed over Gabriel's lips as he raised his hand to Sam's forehead.  
  
His eyes snapped open. The sadness was gone. His heart didn't feel as heavy as before. If anything, it felt _light_. There was a warmth around him, _inside_ him, pulsing through his veins with every beat of his heart. He stayed in bed, bathing in the comfort, staring at the ceiling with a smile on his lips, until his brother stormed in, ranting about how he should finally get his shit together.  
  
\- "I'm good, Dean", he smiled; and Dean stared at him, frowning in confusion.  
  
They went out to hunt that day, killing the werewolf with a single silver bullet fired from Sam's pistol. Driving back to the bunker, he had his eyes set on the sun setting in the distance, the colors so very familiar, so warm and comforting.  
  
Sam didn't really know what he'd gotten himself into. But it wasn't like he cared.  
  
Because for once, there was a good thing happening in his life.  
  
It was golden, and bright, and beautiful.  
  
And he wasn't going to give it up just like that.


End file.
